


Tainted

by edgarallennope



Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Torture, slash if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallennope/pseuds/edgarallennope
Summary: Lawrence wasn't the same after Dera'a





	Tainted

El Aurens had been in the Bey’s headquarters for a while now, and worry had just started to creep into Ali’s mind. The mad fool thought he was invincible, but he supposed that was something that drew him to El Aurens, that drew his whole army to him. But it wouldn’t fool the Bey, or his men. He crept forward to the hut, keeping himself concealed behind a pillar. He could hear raised voices, low and rough, certainly not El Aurens. And then a cry of pain, like a wounded animal, and then again. He could hear the low voices again, taunting and humoured. He backed away, feeling slightly ill. It didn’t sound like El Aurens, it was so alien and animalistic, compared to the soft, philosophical Englishmen, who found beauty in a land of dust and barbaric heat, and in its people. In him. 

 

Ali had always been a religious man, from a young age he saw beauty in Allah, and in hard times would pray. Right now, he was praying harder than he ever had, that whatever happened in that room, and whatever happened to his El Aurens, would not destroy him, and would not change the beautiful and brilliant man that had walked into it.

* * *

It was hours later, hours of muffled noise that Ali had to strain to hear as he waited, praying for his dear friend. Until he saw lamps illuminate the windows, and he crept quickly behind the pillar, as four guards came out, dragging a limp, ragged figure with them, before throwing him out into the thick, muddy streets, and turning back inside. Ali waited until all the lights had faded out, before rushing to his friend. He had moved his arm, in an attempt to get himself on his feet, but had given into the pain coursing through him and collapsed into the mud, hugging it to him. 

 

“El Aurens! Aurens, can you hear me?” He attempted to calm his friend, placing a hand on his mid back. His reaction was instantaneous, as Lawrence flinched away from his friends touch, crying out in pain as his weak form attempted to get away from what his pain and fear addled mind must have assumed to be his captors. Ali’s hand sprung away from him, as if it had been burned, and he could feel it was wet, and warm. He needed to get him away from here as quickly as he could, should the guards come and find him. 

 

“Aurens, it is me, it is Ali. I’m going to take you away from here, please, please hear me, friend. I am going to take you somewhere safe.” He tried to plead with his friend, who was seemingly trying to burrow himself even deeper into the mud, to disappear. His breathing was coming quickly, and he was whispering, in arabic, and Ali had to lean in close to hear him.

 

“Please, please not again, give me to the Bey, please Effendi just give me to the Bey.”

 

Ali’s heart broke listening to his friend, and his stomach churned with nausea, just thinking of what had happened in the hours that he had been left at the mercy of the Bey and his guards. He tried again to reach him, gently laying his hands on his friend's arms, and trying to turn him away from the mud and to sit him up. His friend had gone tense in his hold, his eyes shut and his face terrified, that much Ali could see even in the darkness. He kept his hold soft, and gently shook his friend, trying hard not to hurt him, but he still gasped as his injuries were jarred.

 

“Aurens, look at me, open your eyes.” He pleaded.

 

Slowly but surely, Lawrence opened his eyes, full of fearful apprehension, but slowly recognition seeped into his gaze.

 

“Ali?” He said, his voice a harsh croak.

 

“Yes, my friend. We must go, can you stand?”

 

He nodded, but he didn’t seem sure. Ali helped him to his feet, and he staggered, muffling his cry of pain. Ali looped his arm around his neck and supported him to the camels, which were still secured outside of the city. He was painstakingly able to help him onto his camel, and Lawrence was quite weak by the time they set off back to the cave; it was all he could do to keep from passing out. The ride back was strenuous, and silent. Lawrence nearly fell when dismounting his camel at the foot of the cave, and Ali assisted him inside. When he came to his bed, he more or less collapsed into it, just as he had done when he had returned with Gassim from the anvil. 

 

Now that Ali could see him in the light, he wished he couldn’t. Blood seeped through his once clean, white robes, sticking to his back so Ali could see the outline of lashes. The blood ran all down his back, and...and down to his backside.

 

_ Give me to the Bey. _

 

Ali felt pure hatred, hatred towards the Bey and to his men, course through his veins like fire, for what they had done to such an original and irreplaceable entity like Lawrence. He looked at him now, passed out, his face a blissful mask of peace, a contrast to the map of violence on his back. He would let Lawrence rest now, in the morning he would tend to his wounds.

* * *

 

They didn’t make it to the morning.

 

An hour after Laurence passed out, Ali was awoken by a movement to his side. He raised himself up, and saw Lawrence trembling, and he could hear his breathing hitch and falter, which betrayed his tears. He sat up and carefully lay a hand on his friend’s arm. Lawrence froze, his breath stopping short.

 

“Aurens, you are awake.”

 

Laurence was silent, and then slowly brought up a hand to brush Ali’s away, keeping his own in it’s place, as if to claim the skin back for himself.

 

“Aurens, I must treat your wounds.”

 

“No.” His first words since Dera’a were feeble, and melancholy.

 

“Do not be foolish. If I do not treat them, you may die.”

 

Lawrence was silent. Ali came round so that he was facing the Englishman. His beautiful, blue eyes were wet, and distant. He saw through Ali. He knew that his friend’s mind was not in the present, and was not thinking rationally. He reached out, to try and comfort him.

 

“Don’t touch me.” The utterance was not a threat, as perhaps Lawrence had intended, but more a plea. He was begging, and it melted Ali’s heart.

 

“Aurens, I swear to you I will not harm you. But please, you must let me tend to your wounds, for God’s sake.”

 

Lawrence didn’t answer, just looked emptily back into Ali’s eyes. For a moment, Ali remembered just how  _ young  _ Lawrence was, a young man given the great burden of leading the Arab army, and now this. Now he could see that young, man, afraid and lost, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to scoop him up into his arms, but no. Lawrence blinked heavily, and spoke.

 

“Ali...you must understand,what...w-what was done...I’m not-”

 

“I know what happened, Aurens.” Lawrence’s breath faltered.

 

“I’m not  _ clean _ , Ali, you can’t touch me, not after what they did, they made me dirty and I can’t ever be clean again.” His words trailed off into a sob, as he struggled to stay composed. Ali lay down parallel to him and placed a hand on his unbruised cheek. His face was hot; a fever, from the wounds.

 

“My friend, you are not dirty, I promise you, you are not. You are the most extraordinary man I have ever known. Please, let me heal you, before you grow more ill.” He said, tenderly. Lawrence blinked hard, a tear managing to escape and roll down his nose, which Ali caught with his thumb. He took a deep breath and, with what Ali knew to be imense courage, nodded his consent.

* * *

By the time Ali had finished bandaging him up, Lawrence was trembling again, and Ali felt just as sick. He knew it would be bad, but he hadn’t been quite prepared for the extent of the damage. His back was completely covered in lashes, lashes that crossed over each other and joined together into a map of cruelty and pain. Even now, as he wrapped the bandages around his friend, the blood still seeped through. But he knew that Lawrence’s back wasn’t the worst. His friend had been violated, more than once if his wounds were anything to show for it. Once he had finished, he quickly redressed his friend in some of his own clothes, helping him to sit comfortably, though he saw him wince in pain. They sat side by side, their back’s to the wall, Lawrence leant slightly forward to keep pressure off of his wounds. They sat in silence, until Lawrence took an unsteady breath.

 

“It was my fault, Ali.” He was taken aback.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What happened, it was my fault. He, the Bey, he wanted me to...he touched me, and I was afraid, and I lashed out, but there were so many of them, and they took me and beat me, and you  _ know  _ me Ali, pain is  _ nothing _ to me, but it was different. I was helpless.” His voice faltered.

 

“This was  _ not  _ your fault-”

 

“No, no,  _ no _ , you don’t understand, the pain, it...it was everywhere, it was slow and it was shattering, and I...I begged for the Bey to take me, I just wanted it to stop Ali.”

 

_ Give me to the Bey. _

 

“Aurens, please…”

 

“I thought...I-I thought it would be gentle and then it would be done, like he was with me before I...but they kept on hitting me and beating me before they took me to him, and then they brought me to his bedroom and...and he rejected me...said I was too filthy for his bed. They tainted me. So he let the soldiers have me, they weren’t so  _ picky _ .” He spat the last word. Ali felt numb.

 

“Aurens…”

 

“They took turns; one would beat me, and then they would squabble as to whose turn it was next, whilst they played with me, and touched me, and  _ fucked  _ me, and I begged for the Bey to take me so they would stop but they said I was  _ too dirty  _ for him. And he  _ watched _ , he stayed in his bedroom and watched, and I  _ begged  _ him Ali, and he said I was worthless...that I-” Ali took a hold of his friend and pulled him to his chest, stroking his hair away from his face as tremors took a hold of his body.  He shook his head into Ali’s chest as sobs wracked his body again.

 

“I’m dirty Ali, I’m just litter to be used and thrown away, a bastard child in a country too beautiful for me. I-I told Bentley I loved the desert because it was clean, but if I stay in it I’ll just ruin it and  _ taint  _ it.” His voice was so full of pain and anguish that it brought Ali close to weeping alongside his friend.

 

“My friend, please listen to me. Everything they told you was a lie, you are  _ not _ filthy. You’re clean and pure, a being too great for them to ever deserve. You are clean, Aurens, clean to me.”

 

“I...I don’t feel clean.”

 

“Then maybe I can help.” he said softly, running his hands through that golden hair once more, before he got to his feet and went to a different section of the cave, bringing back a small bowl of well water and a cloth. He sat across from Lawrence, dipping the cloth into the water, and gently running it across Lawrence’s forehead. He tensed at first, but relaxed under Ali’s touch. He carefully washed away the dust from Lawrence’s face, over the bruise blossoming on his mouth, and gently over his eyes, soothing the reddened, swollen skin there. Lawrence relaxed under his touch, leaning into his touch like a kitten.

 

“Better?” Ali asked, smiling at his friend

 

“...Better.”

 

“You should get some sleep.”

 

“I...I can’t.”

 

“Is the pain too bad?”   
  


“No, I…well yes but I...I don’t want to be back there again.” Ali nodded in understanding, but set a comforting hand onto Lawrence’s shoulder, which his exhausted head leant into, relishing in the gentle gesture.

 

“I shall lie right with you. Should I see you in distress, I will wake you. I promise you.”

 

“I...thank you, Ali, truly. I’m sorry, about everything.”

 

“No need, El Aurens. Just get rest. I will be with you.”

 

Ali helped Lawrence back to the beds, and aided him in lying on his side on the more comfy of the two beds, and Ali lay next to him, so that they lay face to face. Lawrence’s eyes were still distant, and pained, but not panicked, not now at least. It would take more than a talk, an embrace and a face wash to erase what the Bey and his men had beaten into him, but it was a step in the right direction.

  
Ali would be there through it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think


End file.
